


Undertow

by Anonymous



Category: Ocean's Eleven (2001) RPF
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, M/M, Pre-Movie(s), Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 05:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2721038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/





	Undertow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Imala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imala/gifts).



Really, George should have known better.

Five auditions – five – for that stupid role as a dumb hick hitchhiker from Bumfuck, USA, in front of a pervert director who spent the entire time touching George’s (fairly well-defined, thank you very much) abdomen while asking him if he felt comfortable being stark naked on-screen…and he loses the role to some peroxide-blonde Robert Redford wannabe from Missouri.

“Dammit!” George swears under his breath for a number of reasons, not in the least because he had to call Talia to get her to pick him up, and couldn’t find a fucking quarter anywhere.

“You okay there?”

George’s head snaps up in surprise. Standing there, not three feet away, is the Robert Redford Wannabe, all white teeth and blue eyes and designer stubble. This is the guy? Jesus, Ridley will have fun with this pretty little thing…is that how he got the role? 

Robert-Redford-Wannabe’s grin widens. “Need a quarter?”

George twists his face into what he hopes is a winning smile, despite his annoyance. 

“These jeans aren’t really big enough to fit a wallet into, are they?” The Robert Redford Clone speaks before George can. “I got a whole handful here. Had to get the cashier to change a five-dollar bill.” His eyes leave George’s as he leans back to wave his thanks at the still-swooning cashier. He wiggles his hips as he digs around in the pockets of his tight jeans. “How many do you need?” he asks, producing a whole pile of quarters as he wriggles about.

“Oh, just one should be fine, thanks,” George finally gets a word in edgeways. “I really appreciate your kindness.”

“Oh, no problem!” Robert Redford Junior’s blinding white teeth tell George as the money is poured into his hands. “I’m Brad, by the way.” There are enough quarters in George’s hands to make a lengthy overseas call.

“I’m George,” he says, a little dumbfounded by this guy – Brad – and his generosity. He looks up and smiles. “Thanks so much for the loan.”

“On the house,” Brad insists with a wave of his hand. He smiles again, looking George straight in the eye, and George can’t help but smile back – it’s like his face has a mind of its own again. For the first time, George really looks at Brad, without anger and bitterness over his lost break. There’s a strange feeling in George’s stomach and he desperately hopes that the strange heat he can feel on his face isn’t a visible blush.

“Thank you,” George says, ducking his head like he used to when half of his face didn’t work and the only thing in the world he wanted was for Amanda Greenstone to know he existed beyond being the freak who couldn’t drink milk properly.

Dropping a quarter into the payphone, George sighs as he listens to the phone ring endlessly. “C’mon, Tee, pick up the damn phone!” he mutters. The phone rings out, which is bad for two reasons. Firstly, it means that Talia isn’t home, and that he’ll be stuck at the studio until the apocalypse unless he can find her. Secondly, it means that the answering machine is broken again, and he really isn’t sure if he can afford to have the damn thing repaired, let alone replace it. “Shit!”

“No answer, huh?”

George starts a little; for a moment he had forgotten Brad was still there. Sighing, he shakes his head, not noticing the way Brad’s eyes linger on George’s long hair as if fascinated by it. “It would appear that no one’s home.”

“I’m gathering that you didn’t drive here yourself this morning?”

George can’t help but smile at Brad again. “’Fraid not. Tee dropped me off. She said she needed the car for the day, but she should have been home by now…” George sighs again. “Looks like I’m stuck here.”

“I could give you a lift if you like,” Brad offers. 

“Oh, I couldn’t impose on you like that!” George says without thinking. “First the quarters, now a lift?”

Brad laughs. “Oh, don’t worry about that!” he says. “No one deserves to be stuck here until the Rapture.”

George laughs. “Thanks. I’d really appreciate it.”

“No problem.”

As they walk to the car lot, George tries not to think about the warm, pleasant feeling that spreads in his gut when Brad smiles at him. 

*****

George and Brad don’t become best friends or anything like that, but really, George knows that it’s his fault rather than Brad’s. There is something about Brad that really unsettles George. Against his wishes, Talia drags him to see Thelma & Louise. George isn’t sure if she is being malicious, or if she just really wants to watch Susan Sarandon and Geena Davis blow shit up…until Brad Pitt’s naked rear fills up the screen. George shifts nervously in his seat, telling himself the funny feeling in his stomach is his rapidly-growing ulcer playing up again. “Too much popcorn,” he tells Talia.

She nods, and gently pats his belly with her hand.

He isn’t at all sure how to feel about the fact that she hasn’t noticed that he hadn’t so much as touched the popcorn. Or that her eyes never left the screen. 

Later, as he waits for Talia, he notices someone wave at him in passing from across the street. George nearly chokes. He can’t believe it. He cannot fucking believe it.

It’s Brad Fucking Pitt. Brad Fucking Pitt is waving at him from across the street.

Using his sunglasses as a cover, George pretends not to notice him. He absent-mindedly rubs his stomach – stupid ulcer is playing up again…

For some reason, the pain gets very sharp when he sees – out of the corner of his eye – the confused, slightly hurt look on Brad’s face.

Fuck it, George thinks angrily as Talia suddenly morphs into a Kind-And-Concerned-Wife and wraps her arms around his middle, supporting him as they walk down the street. Fuck him. 

Brad did steal George’s role, and is moving up in Hollywood a lot faster than George is. George hopes that Brad will put it down to professional jealousy and leave it at that.

Really, George should have known better. Brad is a lot smarter than he makes out, and George just knows that this is going to bite him on the backside one day.

*****

And, almost a decade later, it does.


End file.
